


the lover's portrait

by eyesonly



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Adults, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Tattoos, v cute married bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesonly/pseuds/eyesonly
Summary: where davey sees jack for the work of art he is. inside and out.





	the lover's portrait

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write more of these boys. Also I'm v gay and I love tattoos and Walt Whitman. Go figure. 
> 
> For all the sweet gaybies out there, pls read Whitman. America's sweetheart poet that was a bi man who openly wrote books of poetry about his male lovers in the 1800s. Thanks for coming to my TED talk...
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, kudos, and bookmarks <3

Sunday mornings seemed to be universally disliked by most of the people Davey Jacobs knew.

It was the last day of relaxation and a bitter reminder of the impending week that lay before them.

Davey, however, was not so pessimistic. Though, he was creature of habit.

He always had a bit of a habit of waking early, even on his weekends off. So it was no surprise when he woke at the first break of light. Blinking his eyes open, he realized he was still tucked into the side of Jack who still remained blissfully asleep, his breath coming out in soft even huffs of air.

Davey smiled in pure content, pressing his face into the swirls of blue and purple on the older man’s chest.

It had become a weird little ritual of his on Sundays, it being the only day both he and Jack had off together. Jack would sleep in far later than he should, but in the meantime, Davey occupied himself by examining the tattooed flesh of his partner.

Jack had only a few small tattoos when they had first met nearly a decade earlier. He was probably far too young to have the small sparrow on his neck and COWBOY written in a terribly cliche font over the back of his shoulders, but it added to the eccentricity that was Jack Kelly.

As they got older and went through college, all of Davey’s spare money went into savings or maybe indulging in a book or two. All of Jack’s money went into his continuing art project, himself.

It started with his chest that gradually became a beautifully scenic scene right out of a classic Western novel. The colors mimicked that of a watercolor painting and over the next year the colors slowly formed a sky, mountains, and a deserted landscape that covered up to his collar bone to just above his navel. 

Davey traced his fingers over the ridges of the mountains and trailed up into the sky that gradually faded into the darkness that covered the top of his right shoulder. He remembered being almost horrified at the utter darkness that encompassed his shoulder. 

It was a deep rich black, none of his tanned skin peeking through in the slightest. It was stark and unforgiving. Davey remembered it being the only session Jack openly wept on him from the pain, both physically and emotionally.

The darkness represented Jack’s childhood.

It was a time in his life he had never fully divulged to Davey at that point. Davey now knew and understood the sense of hopelessness and despair young Jack overcame.

The black faded around his bicep and turned into a dark blue which eventually became an ocean of water. The color gradually got lighter and more freeing until the waves seemed to lap over the natural color of his skin.

The representation of foster care and his unbiological family he got along the way.

The water was more freeing and forgiving, but it was still scary and was still the unknown. Water had the ability to be calm and relaxing, but also dangerous and suffocating if one wasn’t too careful. 

Davey always knew Jack regarded his family as the sea that carried him away from the worst.

After the waves, it was an explosion of color. A collection of brightly colored items all mishmoshed together that had no connection other than their significance to Jack. A cigar, a pair of glasses, a crutch, feathered boas, books, a typewriter, a cowboy hat, a road sign for Manhattan and one for Santa Fe. There were many others and they wrapped fully around his arms. The background between the images were bright pinks, yellows, and teals.

It was happiness. His life now and all the people who encompassed it.

The images trailed down his forearm until one tattoo remained right above his wrist. 

A simple and blue Star of David.

It was the last piece to go on his arm. Davey remembered the sudden tears that overwhelmed him when Jack revealed the tattoo.

“You were the star that guided me out of the darkness for good.”

Davey smiled at the memory of the words as he rubbed his thumb over the years healed tattoo, Jack’s arm rested on his own midsection.

His other arm was a bit less put together. It included a few embarrassingly bad tattoos of Jack’s youth, including a gaudy crown and a classic punk star over his elbow. But in recent years he seemed to put things others requested.

Medda, his adoptive mother, had mentioned he should have some beauty on his body. Suggesting flowers at one point. After his next session, a myriad of wildflowers surrounded the empty space around the crown he had gotten years before. 

Davey had jokingly mentioned him getting a tribute to the poet Walt Whitman, his own favorite author and poet. He had spent many nights watching Jack paint and reading poetry to him in the background.

Jack soon came home with a mossy oak tree surrounded by a bed of grass. 

Live Oak with Moss. 

Davey’s favorite set of poems, the ones he arguably read to Jack the most. 

He was able to see the top leaves of the tree from where Jack’s arm rested against Davey’s hip. 

Jack had more tattoos, some on his back, legs, and a heart on his ass that appeared after a drunken night out with his friends. 

Davey felt partial to the tattoos he saw most often. Just enjoying the quiet moments like Sunday mornings when he was alone to explore every colorful part of Jack’s chests and arms. 

He mindlessly traces the letters that are buried in the sky of Jack’s chest.

_Ubi bene, ibi patria._

Where you feel good, there is your home.

He almost doesn’t notice when Jack’s hand gently tangles his fingers in with Davey’s.

“Y’havin’ fun there, Dave?” Jack sleepily hums out.

Davey smiles and looks up at him. He nods a little, blushing as he gets caught.

“Just enjoying all your hard work,” he answers with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jack smiles and rests his head back onto the pillows, before letting go he pulls Davey’s hand up to his lips kissing it softly.

Jack’s lips fall over the three small bands of black ink that surround Davey’s slender left ring finger. 

He lets go of Davey’s hand and closes his eyes with a content look on his face.

“Enjoy away, babe,” Jack relaxes back in the bed as Davey proudly continues his Sunday morning ritual.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @walkin-mouth 
> 
> or 
> 
> my main blog @deanogarbage


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